A TRUSTING little leaf of green,
A bold, audacious frost,
A rendezvous, a kiss or two,
    And youth forever lost.
       Ah, me!
    The bitter, bitter cost!

A flaunting patch of vivid red
    That quivers in the sun,
A windy gust, a grave of dust--
    The little race is run.
                      Ah, me!
    Were that the only one!

    ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.